


Midsummer Madness

by damedanbo



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damedanbo/pseuds/damedanbo
Summary: Mukuro is an artist struggling to find and keep his muse--but regardless of that, there is the issue of the owl and the faerie.





	1. something broken

On a beautiful, starlit country night, Mukuro found something interesting.

Moving out to the country had been a good idea, overall. Getting away from the noise and lights and crowds of the city had been good for him, in more ways than one. He enjoyed the long, lazy days of work, the long, starry nights of rest, the solitude. It was a good place to create art, better for him than Tokyo had ever been.

He had a less regular schedule now, but seemed to get more done. Somewhere between dawn and noon he’d wake, and have a piece of fruit for breakfast. Afterwards, he’d begin painting, and work through the day. At sundown, a break for dinner- whatever he had in the cupboards; he didn’t fancy going to town for food often- then read and relax until the muse struck again.

The muse- that flitting, fleeting thing, always flying quickly away from him. Mukuro’s muse, as far as he was concerned, was a lithe man, thin, pale, classically beautiful. Sometimes he stared off in the distance, bored and unapproachable; sometimes in the throes of passion, faithfully replicated from nothing; sometimes torn to shreds, halves pinned like a butterfly’s wings, organs exposed but still working.

The muse came and went, unfriendly as the man he painted. Sometimes it snapped at him, sometimes it threw things and started fights. More often than not it was silent, settled on a stool in the corner, watching him paint without a word.

Lately, however, the muse hadn’t visited him at all. It had disappeared with the fading summer, leaving him with half-finished pieces and torn canvases and paints slung at the wall in rage.

Regardless of the state of his muse, there was the situation with the owl and the faerie.

Mukuro had taken it in as a chick, abandoned by its mother at some point- why, he had no idea, but that’s how it had turned out. Now the creature was almost full grown, still without a name, as he’d promised he wouldn’t get too attached to the thing, and it came and went from his house with pleasure.

Sometimes the owl would bring him things, dead things from the forest beyond his house- occasionally a mouse, a rabbit, a sparrow, always motionless. It was a catlike tendency, bringing him carcasses as if to say “look, you terrible hunter! Have a bite, on me!” Mukuro usually left the dead things outside, for the owl to slink away with and eat in secret, or for something else to steal off the back stoop.

Tonight, however, the owl brought him something interesting.

He was sitting in his workspace, sketching for a new piece, when he heard the owl in the entry hall. The creature’s claws came tapping down the hall, scratching up the distressed hardwood, and it paused in the entrance to his workroom. Mukuro ignored the owl, erasing half the face to start over.

The owl made no noise, which was somewhat unusual for it. Mukuro glanced over for a brief second to see something small and slim clutched in the creature’s beak. A bird, a mouse, a praying mantis. It twitched in the corner of his eye, struggling for life. 

“Take it outside and kill it,” he told the owl, returning full focus to the sketch. The owl stayed where it was. “Don’t kill it in here,” Mukuro sighed, turning on his stool to face the doorway and shoo the owl away. When he did, he caught sight of the thing in the owl’s beak- and froze.

It was a little person, maybe four inches tall, with naked arms and legs and a mop of black hair on its head. Crushed against its back were two insectile wings, twisted and bent by the owl’s beak. As Mukuro started at it, mouth agape, the owl turned and hopped away, back down the hall.

“No- wait!” he cried, running after it. The owl took flight, soaring away from him towards the front door with its catch. Mukuro dove ahead of it to slam the door shut in its face; the owl flapped hard to avoid the door and turn around, heading to the back door instead. Mukuro swiped at the bird in the air, first with his hand, then with the broom he snatched up by the back door, until the owl finally dropped its prey and flew off out the back door, hoo-ing angrily back at him.

Mukuro stood staring at the retreating owl a moment, then turned his focus back to the tiny creature. It lay, shaking and twitching on the floor, so small it could have been mistaken for anything else- but there was no way he didn’t know what he’d seen. Mukuro crouched to get a closer look. The creature squinted up at him, chirping softly in pain, and curled away from his outstretched hand. 

Carefully, so as not to further hurt it, Mukuro scooped the tiny person up and brought it closer. Sharp pain bloomed on his palm- it turned its head and bit him, drawing a thick bead of blood. It bared its bloodied teeth up at him, eyes dark and narrow.

“Nasty little thing, aren’t you?” Mukuro chuckled, standing with it and carrying it back to his workroom. He had just cleared off the workbench beside the window a few days before; there was plenty of room to set the little creature down, draw up a stool and examine it. As soon as he released it, the fae creature started to run away, long quick strides across the workbench. Mukuro slammed his hand down in front of it, halting its progress.

The tiny person turned, screaming something up at him that sounded like soft bells ringing. Mukuro smiled despite himself, picking it carefully back up again.

“Don’t be angry with me. You’re the one who got caught by an owl.”

The person grabbed his thumb and bit him again, gnawing on his fingerprint. Mukuro sighed, grabbing a jar, turning it upside down to empty it, and dropping the little creature inside. It stood quickly, banging on the glass walls of its prison and yelling unintelligibly, bells amplified by the jar. Eventually, tired and frustrated, the fae person sat down, cross-legged and back facing Mukuro, and put its chin in its palms to fume.

Mukuro picked up the jar and turned it to get a better look at the faerie- for there was no denying that was what it was. It scowled at him, pink lips pouting, and looked away. Mukuro set the jar down again, picking up a pencil and a sketchpad, and began to draw. 

The faerie soon took interest in what he was doing, first flickering its gaze over to him a few times, then lifting its head to look, eventually standing back up in the jar to get a better glimpse. Mukuro tilted the sketchbook down to show the faerie his work, and it visibly gasped, pointing at the sketchbook and then gesturing to itself, mouth moving the whole time. It clearly recognized itself in his work. Interesting.

Mukuro turned the finished sketch around to show the faerie and it stood in awe for a solid minute, admiring the loose lines. Eventually it pointed to him, and then to the sketchpad, then at itself again, and sat, posing, in the bottom of the jar. Mukuro laughed. 

“You’re a vain little thing,” he surmised, starting another sketch of the tiny figure. Soft, black hair, wild around its head. Narrow eyes, dark in color. Pale skin, slender limbs, and a cute little romper made out of a leaf. It smiled up at him, standing and tapping on the glass until he showed it the sketch. “Another?” he asked, and the faerie nodded eagerly, turning round and around in the glass jar as he drew it again.

Time passed quickly, the night turning over as he moved on to drawing, and then painting the little fae, taking it from the jar and setting it on top of his canvas while he painted. The faerie watched, fascinated, as he laid down colors, shading here and highlighting there, catching and keeping forever the softness and buoyancy of its hair, the rosy curl of its mouth, the bend in its broken wings. The faerie lifted its feet carefully to let him paint under its legs on the top corner of the canvas, and he reached out to take it into his palm and carry it away, showing it the painting from a distance.

The faerie sat in his hand and stared at the painting for a long, long time. Finally, it stood, pointing at Mukuro and beckoning him closer, until the artist lifted it to his face- there, it began jabbering excitedly, bells ringing and jingling happily.

“I take it you like it?” Mukuro asked, grinning. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he had a muse again, something driving him to paint and create. The faerie nodded eagerly.

“Shall we…” Mukuro paused, glancing at the window. Light was starting to stream through as the sun rose, coming up over the forest. Somehow, he’d painted through the entire night. When was the last time that had happened?

“I think I’d better sleep,” Mukuro said, “and you… I expect you want to return to your home, wherever that is.” The faerie stared up at him, holding onto his thumb. “But those wings… You won’t get far, injured like that. I’d better fix you up, after I rest.”

The faerie nodded, turning to watch where they were going as Mukuro carried it through the country house. He stopped off in the bathroom to brush his teeth (the faerie watched in fascination) then scooped the little fae back up and headed to bed. 

He settled into his pillows, letting the fae run off his hand and onto the comforter. It climbed carefully up onto his stomach, watching him get comfortable. In time, Mukuro was asleep, and the faerie curled up on top of his comforter, snoring like a little bell ringing.


	2. something mended

When Mukuro awoke (at around 5 in the afternoon) he thought he’d had a very strange dream, and struggled to remember any of it. Something to do with the owl, and a little bird- or a bug- or a mouse- and he’d painted it in his studio under the light of the fluorescent bulb. But was it a bird or a bug or a mouse? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

He rolled over, and something toppled over on top of the comforter- possibly a dead thing that the owl had dropped in his bed (again) that he’d have to clean up once he was really awake. Mukuro lifted his head, blinking sleepily at the carcass- and it moved, lifting a little black head of hair and wiping the sleep from its eyes with a tiny, tiny hand.

Oh, that was it, he thought with a yawn. A faerie.

The faerie!

“Did I wake you?” he asked, sitting up in bed and scooping up the little fae. It jingled at him, annoyed and sleepy. “I forgot you were here.” He paused, watching the faerie stretch and stand. “Are you hungry?” he asked eventually. The faerie pointed to its mouth.

“I don’t know what fae eat,” he admitted, climbing out of bed and carrying the creature towards the kitchen. “Leaves?”

The faerie shook its head, cheeks puffed up in annoyance.

“Fruit? I have fruit. No meat, I can’t eat it.” 

The faerie nodded, hopping off his hand once they were at the table, and watched Mukuro pick out an assortment of fruits. It shook its head at the offered apple and orange, sniffed and then rejected the grapefruit, and then dug into the bowl of offered berries, gobbling up a raspberry the size of its head with ease. Mukuro chuckled, leaving the faerie to its breakfast and heading over to the stove to brew himself some tea. As it steeped, he had an idea- and procured a tiny measuring spoon which he scooped up some hot tea in, presenting it to the faerie. It sipped at the hot beverage- and instantly recoiled, fanning its burned tongue. Mukuro couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You didn’t know it was hot?” he asked, trying not to derive too much enjoyment out of its pain. The faerie shook its head, cheeks red from the heat. 

“Here,” Mukuro said, emptying the eighth of a teaspoon and filling it again with cool water. “You must be thirsty.” The faerie gazed up at him, gauging his intent and deciding whether or not to trust him, and took a careful, measured sip. It quickly began to gulp down the water, scooping it up in its palms to lift to its mouth.

“I wonder what I should call you,” Mukuro murmured, watching the faerie drink and nibble at a strawberry, eating around the seeds. “Do you have a name?”

The faerie said something he couldn’t understand, full of bells and bright, lovely sounds. Mukuro sighed. 

“In any case, it’s a pain not to know your name. Can you write?”

The faerie pondered for a moment, then nodded. Mukuro stood, leaving the table, and returned with a post-it note and a mechanical pencil, which he snapped the lead off of. 

“Here,” he said, handing the faerie both. The faerie lay the sticky note down on the rough table, and began writing in tiny, precise handwriting.

“Hold on,” Mukuro said, when the faerie stepped back and presented the post-it to him. He hurried to the other room again and returned with a magnifying glass, dusty from disuse. The hiragana- he could read it, but wasn’t sure what it meant- came into focus; tiny, curling kana- cute but precise.  _ Hi-ba-ri. _

“Hibari?” he asked, and the faerie nodded. “Your handwriting is horrible.”

The faerie stood, shouting something likely very rude at him, and slung a piece of berry his way. Mukuro chuckled, picking up the faerie by the back of its romper. “In any case, Hibari, I should probably do something about your wings. It doesn’t seem like you can fly with them in this condition.”

Hibari nodded, hanging by the back of its romper and squirming a little. Mukuro sipped his tea. 

“First, however, I need a bath.” The faerie nodded, sneering at him. “Don’t make that face. It’s not cute.” Mukuro set his teacup down, standing and transferring the faerie to his palm. “You could probably use one too, you know. You  _ were  _ in a bird’s mouth last night.” Hibari crossed its arms, scowling, but didn’t say anything. “Anyway, let’s wash up, and then I’ll fix your wings and you can go.” Hibari nodded, and they headed down the hall to the bath, where Mukuro peeled off yesterday’s clothes and Hibari removed its romper, laying it carefully on the floor in the entrance. It pointed to the leafy attire, saying something to Mukuro- probably about not stepping on it.

Mukuro turned the showerhead on in the bath and sprayed himself down; the faerie sat on his shoulder, covering its head from the onslaught of water that washed over it. It mimicked Mukuro’s movements in the bath- scrubbing its hair alongside him, soaping up its body, then sat on his knee while he rinsed off, making a big fuss about something or other. 

By the time they were clean, the tub had filled with water, and Mukuro climbed in, holding onto the naked, shivering faerie. He sank into the hot water, setting the faerie down on his chest, where the water was deep enough to soak but not to drown. Hibari settled into the warmth with what was undeniably a sigh of content, eyes closed. 

They stayed that way for so long, Mukuro might have fallen asleep again- but the faerie snapped him out of it, walking up his chest and tapping on his chin to get his attention. Mukuro cracked an eye open and raised his eyebrow at Hibari.

“What is it?” he asked, lifting his head. Hibari took a few steps back and turned, showing Mukuro its broken wings. “Oh, of course. You want to get back, don’t you.”

The faerie nodded. From here, Mukuro could sex the creature- assuming faeries had the same genitalia as humans- and took note. “Right,” he said, holding out a hand for Hibari to climb on. “Let’s get dressed, then.”

Hibari redressed in his leaf romper, while Mukuro picked out some clean clothes to wear. Afterwards, they headed to the studio, where Mukuro set to work carefully setting Hibari’s translucent wings with thin toothpicks and bits of thread.

“Do you think you can fly?” he asked, when he felt he had done all he could. Hibari stepped away, testing his wings carefully- and after a few false starts, lifted into the air. Mukuro sighed in relief as Hibari flitted around his workshop, glad to have finished the delicate work. 

“Try not to get caught by any more owls,” he called, as Hibari disappeared out the window, leaving him all alone in the studio.

He slept until noon the next day, then got up, had a cup of tea and some dry toast, and headed to the studio to work. Unfortunately, his muse failed to show up. He paced, eyes on a blank canvas; he tried to sketch, tore it up and threw it away. His muse had taken vacations before, but never had it fully abandoned him, leaving him nothing to work with. The pale, emaciated man he usually drew, the one that enraptured his audience- he had disappeared without a trace, taking all his things with him, packed up in a bag overflowing with anger and regret.

Mukuro sighed, plopping down on his stool and letting his gaze drift over to his last painting. The little faerie, Hibari- where was he right now? Back with his own kind, hopefully? Not dead and eaten, hopefully?

Well, he supposed he’d never really know. 

He went into town in the mid afternoon for food, and to windowshop. There was an old, secondhand bookstore next to the shop he got groceries at- and he stopped in there after going to the market. It was a bright but dusty sort of store- well lit, well loved, but obviously too much for the little old lady running it to keep track of. He nodded at her greeting and headed towards the back, where all the reference books were. He used them for art all the time.

He perused the section for a while- encyclopedias, picture books, how-to-draw-manga books- and paused in sliding his fingertips over the spines, hand on a journal. He squinted at the kanji, muttering aloud to himself the name.

_ Faeries. _

He flipped it open, fanning through the pages. It was all in Japanese, in tight, neat handwriting- but midway through, there were a few sloppy sketches of something like what he’d encountered before. Pausing on a sketch of a tiny person on the back of a bird, he leaned in, squinting at the kana and kanji-

“Do you need any help?” the old lady asked him, rounding the corner. Mukuro instinctively hid the book behind his back, on high alert. 

“Ah, no, I’m fine granny,” he said, smiling nervously and waving her off. She shuffled closer, cane tapping on the dusty floor, and leaned around him to look at the book he was hiding.

“Ah, so you have faeries,” she surmised, smiling up at him. “Be careful. They can be very nasty.”

“Thank you granny,” Mukuro said humbly, shrinking before her wizened gaze.

“You take that book,” the old lady said, shooing him towards the door. “No, no payment! Go right home and read it, okay?”

“Yes granny,” Mukuro said meekly, climbing into his car with the book. 

She waved goodbye to him from the doorway to her shop as Mukuro started up the engine and drove away, out of town and back to the countryside.

**Author's Note:**

> self indulgent... stuff... `____`  
> It's been a long time since I worked on this one, but I'm semi confident I can finish out the last couple chapters and have it all posted this summer.


End file.
